


these plans aren't concrete

by sixnumbers



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Black Character(s), Domestic, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, black female protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29366106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixnumbers/pseuds/sixnumbers
Summary: "Once she got to the gate, Imani checked the scene around her. Denny looked amazing, as she expected, even though she was brandishing a gold bat. A scraggly looking guy, who she presumed was Henry, was lazing back on a beach chair. And there was a cement truck--and a pool full of cement mix.Well. Fuck."or, Imani--well, V--tries to befriend Denny, ends up yelling at two old men, and makes Johnny groan with her bad jokes. And misses her dead boyfriend Jackie a bunch.(this is a separate piece from my normal work with my V, as I work within an AU for the most part.)[rejected tags: rich auntie energy is a real thing, fangirl moment, johnny calls her a nerd]
Relationships: Female V & Denny (Cyberpunk 2077)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	these plans aren't concrete

**Author's Note:**

> if i didn't put it out now, I never would have. sorry if it's choppy at bits, and happy black history month

Imani parked Jackie’s bike--her bike now, she guessed--right outside of the back gate of the house. So this is where the legendary Denny lived. It was extravagant, of course, as any celebrity home should be. She wasn’t sure how it still managed to have a Rich Auntie touch, but it was funny to consider.

Jackie was always the bigger Samurai fan, but each time they’d watch their videos, she’d try and keep her eyes on the drummer, all passion and limbs. Getting to--just show up at her house? Invited? Well, kind of invited. It was so weird to consider. But she had to remember she was just a filler piece. The whole reason she was here was because of Johnny’s engram jammed in her skull.

 _Your thoughts on why we were called upon, J?_ Imani asked Johnny as she got off the bike.

“Have an unusual feelin’ that a reunion might have gone sour,” Johnny said nonchalantly. “Didn’t Ker say somethin’ about breaking Henry outta rehab?”

_Yeah, pretty sure._

“He and Denny have history, and not any good stuff. She helped him get himself together a few times, and he always defaulted back to strugglin’.”

_Addiction’s rough._

“If he pulled a stunt, it likely isn’t pretty. Best to get in there and figure it out either way, Mani.”

She took off her helmet and placed it in the cargo hold of the bike, patting the closed seat before leaving out of habit.

Once she got to the gate, Imani checked the scene around her. Denny looked amazing, as she expected, even though she was brandishing a gold bat. A scraggly looking guy, who she presumed was Henry, was lazing back on a beach chair. And there was a cement truck--and a pool full of cement mix.

Well. Fuck.

“V! Good you’re here,” Kerry shouted, urging her over. She was surprised the other two didn’t notice him, but she walked over to the table he was leaning on.

“Hey, Ker,” Imani said with some unease. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

“Yeah,” Kerry agreed, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “Yeah...not good.”

“Really not fuckin’ good!” Imani gestured at the cement truck. “What the hell is this?

Kerry muttered “Wondered why he didn’t need a ride--” as Imani turned back to the pair arguing. Johnny’s projection stood away from them both, looking concerned at the scene. 

“Obviously he’s been holdin’ some sort of grudge,” Kerry added. “Henry did often get--emotional.”

“This is a lil’ bit more than _emotional_ , Ker. What about the concert?”

“Haven’t gotten a chance to ask Denny yet. But, it’s not lookin’ good.”

Johnny finally piped up, hand on his chin. “You should talk to them, Mani. Kerry’ll just make it worse.”

_You think I’ll be any help? They don’t know me from Eve._

“They’ll get past it. Now, go, before Denny uses that bat.”

Imani took a deep breath before walking over to them. She didn’t expect to be breaking up a pair of legends fighting about a teenage-level prank. She would have to try to keep herself as in check as possible. She was a neutral party, but was always going to lean over to Denny because--well, she was Denny. Great drummer, great lady, and a fellow Black woman.

“Good afternoon, y’all,” Imani said as nicely as possible.

“This your backup?” Denny shouted, not looking at Imani fully. Once the other woman got a good look at her, she softened considerably. “Lil’ girl, what _are_ you doin’?

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Kerry sent me, I’m helpin’ with the concert,” Imani said, apologetically. 

“What concert? Why is he hangin’ back and not talkin’ to us?”

Henry looked completely at ease. Imani wanted to stomp on his face, but held back the anger. Why was he being such an asshole? This wasn’t the right way to fix anything. Couldn’t he just leave a flaming bag of dog shit at her door like every other self-absorbed gonk?

“Thought it would be best to have y’all talk to a neutral party. Kerry wants to bring back Samurai, a one night only kinda thing.”

“And he wants to get us all back together for it?” Denny scoffed. “Sweet, but no fuckin’ way! Not about to play with this shitstain.”

“Well, I wouldn’t either, if I were you,” Imani shrugged.

“What?” Henry said, shifting his legs to sit up on the chair. “Now you two are gonna gang up on me?”

“Guess you can put it that way,” Imani said with a half smile.

Denny smiled, obviously glad someone was seeing things her way, and Imani smiled briefly back to reassure her.

“Aren’t you gonna hear me out?” Henry objected, seeming not to notice the look they gave each other.

“No,” Imani said with an irritated sigh. “You’ve done enough.”

Johnny chuckled, projecting himself sitting in the other deck chair. “Christ, Mani. Didn’t expect you to be such a hardass here. No sympathy?”

_Look, I’m all for sympathy and recovery. This isn’t what anyone who wants to build a bridge does. Unless they mean literally, that is._

“Point made, then,” Johnny smirked.

Kerry finally came over, looking hesitant as ever. “Hey Denny. Henry. V. Uh...how’s it goin’?”

“Like shit!” Henry added, pointing his hands at both Denny and Imani. She never did like being pointed at. “Denny said she won’t play with me, and your friend here is backin’ her up!”

“ _V,”_ Kerry said with a sigh. “What’s the deal?”

Imani sighed again, shaking her head. “I don’t know what happened between y’all, but I have a distinct feelin’ it wasn’t Denny’s wrongs.”

Kerry shifted, hands on his hips. “So, you’re gonna side with Denny.”

“What’s a band without their amazing drummer? Bass, we can at least find a replacement. It won’t be the same, sure, but it will be easier to work with. Denny’s drum rhythms are second to none. And I’d wanna share a stage with her, above all else.”

“Nice to know someone’s in my corner,” Denny said, smiling gently. “She fillin’ in for J?”

“Huh?” Kerry took a minute to realize what the other woman had said. “Yeah, yeah, she’s playin’ guitar. You should see her--”

“Fuck this, Kerry!” Henry got up off the chair, looking pissed. He was a lot shorter than she expected. Not that she ever really liked him, even in the band. “She’s the one makin’ a big deal outta this!”

Imani narrowed her eyes at the other man. “Maybe she wouldn’t have if you didn’t back a cement truck _into her fuckin’ pool!”_

“Whatever,” Henry said angrily. “She ruined my life!”

Imani crossed her arms. “She probably didn’t take some shit from you and you resent it fifty years later.”

Denny stood silently, taking in the argument.

“You don’t know shit about me!” Henry yelled.

“I know a fuckin’ idiot when I see one, so--”

“V, come _on_ ,” Kerry piped up. 

“Fuck no, Ker!”, Imani whispered harshly, turning herself to face him. “I’m not lettin’ this shit slide!”

“Y’know what, Kerry, fuck this!” Henry shouted. “And C--V--whatever the _fuck_ your name is! I don’t know where you get off--”

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it!” Imani shouted. “Maybe if you weren’t pulling shit like a teenager with a blank check, I woulda listened. But you’ve got some _real_ fuckin’ nerve! Fuck you too, Henry!”

Everyone stopped cold. She didn’t mean to be so loud, but _fuck_ was she angry. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell Denny was still smiling. Henry looked terrified, and Kerry looked surprised.

And Johnny laughed. “That’s one way to clear the air, Mani.”

Henry grimaced. “Fine. I’ll get the fuck out then. Good thing Silverhand isn’t here to see this.”

“Ah, but I am,” Johnny said, his projection lazing on the seat Henry formerly occupied. 

Henry quickly walked off in annoyance, leaving behind the massive cement truck and the pile of barely solid cement behind. Would it even set with all the chlorine? And--why cement? She wished petty, rich assholes could just make fools of themselves in court only. 

_Was I wrong here, J?_

“As a fellow musician, you have a point. As Henry’s friend--”, he sighed, “Nah, nah. You’re right. He shouldn’t have done it. Now there’s gonna be two replacements up there.”

_Tried to be nice._

“And you were, for about two seconds.” Johnny snickered. “But y’know, no one will notice. We’ll just get the mixers to turn down whoever’s the replacement.”

_Now that’s mean, Johnny._

Imani looked at both of the elder musicians remaining. Kerry was rubbing his temples, clearly frustrated. Denny sighed, discarding her baseball bat into the cement ruins.

“Sorry about that, y’all,” Imani finally said quietly. “Don’t know what came over me.”

Kerry shook his head. “V, no worries. He’ll get over it--eventually.”

Denny sighed. “You’re alright, hun. Now that it’s all settled--is Nance in?”

“Yeah, she’s setting the whole thing up. We just gotta show when she asks,” Kerry answered.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, D,” and Kerry smiled wearily. “I’ll see you guys at the show. Gotta get Henry back in rehab before the orderlies notice.”

“See ya, Kerbear,” Imani said with an added wave.

Kerry pointed finger guns at her before turning around, and Imani chuckled. It was easy to forget she was dealing with a bunch of 80 somethings, but apparently time was meaningless in Night City if you were rich.

Denny walked away from them both, obviously still upset. Imani watched her go, still concerned. She seemed--really hurt. And it would kill her if she didn’t figure it out, or at least try. Imani made her way over to Denny, who was standing with her arms crossed, surveying the beige carnage of the scene.

“What a mess,” Imani said casually.

“Yeah, and now I have to find someone to clean this up. Is it even something I _can_ clean up? Fuck.”

“Besides the cement...are you alright?”

“No. Just the sight of that douchewad reminded me how not okay I am.”

“I’m really sorry. I know the feelin’.”

“Do you?” Denny turned to her, tilting her head in disbelief.

“Not exactly,” Imani sighed, putting her hands in her jacket’s pockets. “Never had to deal with any weird white guys actin’ like I didn’t help them in life, but I’ve been in similar situations.”

“That’s kinda what I get, huh?” Denny laughed, uncrossing her arms. “I used to love a project.”

“I’m usually the project,” Imani said with a smile.

“You seem put together. Someone must have worked hard on you.”

“Several someones, to be honest.”

“If this is you with that much work, I wonder how you were in the past. What was your name again?”

“V.”

“Psh. I know your mama didn’t name you V.”

Imani laughed again. “You’re right. It’s Imani.”

“Imani. Nice name, haven’t met someone with it in a long time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, used to go to school with a girl like that. Her family was one of those Pan African types--I’m reminiscin’. You wanna come in for a while? My feet are killin’ me in these heels. You can park your bike in my garage.”

“Really? I can just--come in and hang out?”

“You managed to get everyone mad at you and not at me. Which is a surprisingly good trait to have. You checked in on me, too. Don’t get a lot of that, nowadays. You got somewhere else to be?”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“Then you can hang out and drink.”

_This is--unreal! I get to hang out with her!_

“Chill out, nerd. Denny’s just like anyone else,” Johnny reassured.

“Thanks, Denny,” Imani said, beaming. “It’s--really cool to be a part of this.”

“Big fan of Samurai?”

“Not as major as people I used to know. I am, however, always a fan of a good drummer. Everything else is secondary if you can’t keep a beat.”

“Finally, some appreciation!” Denny laughed again, opening her arms in glee. “But, really, I’m about to fall over, so c’mon.”

\--

Imani took in the surreal scene. There was a beautiful older woman that offered her bourbon in her extravagant house. But Denny wasn’t trying to seduce her, clearly. She got a very wholesome vibe from her, sitting on her large couch while Denny poured them drinks.

“How ya feelin, kid?” Johnny projected himself on the other end of the couch.

_Like I’m dreamin’. I thought I lucked out with Kerry. But here I am with Denny, too._

“Nice to see you excited about somethin’, for a change. Was worried about you.”

_Worried?_

“Boyfriend dies, feel like it’s your fault. Barely had any thoughts in that head of yours. Just--sad. But one day, it’s like you realized you had people who loved you. Didn’t see you like a burden, and didn’t blame you for anything.”

Imani frowned slightly, looking down at the floor. _Took me a while._

“Sometimes it’s like that,” and Johnny smiled at her, turning to Denny coming back with glasses just as Imani did. “Anyway. I’ll let you girls talk shop.”

Johnny disappeared as soon as Denny sat down, handing over the glass of alcohol.

“Where _are_ you from, anyway? Sound like a country singer.”

“The accent, huh.” Imani shrugged. “Didn’t think I still had it.”

“You’ve still got a lil’ drawl. Hard to miss.”

Imani scoffed, covering her mouth with the glass to hide her smirk. “Texas. Used to be a nomad, so it didn’t help I rolled with people who spoke the exact same way.”

“A nomad? How’d you get mixed up with Kerry?”

She sighed. “Helped him with some work he offered. He liked how I played, once he found out I did.”

“Ah, I gotcha.” Denny crossed her legs, her feet now in very comfortable looking purple slippers. “Then you gotta be good at what you do. He hasn’t be runnin’ you ragged, has he?”

“No, no! Kerry’s great.”

“He’s an odd one, that Eurodyne. But, how did you end up in the city, anyway? You weren’t one of those Raffen weirdos, right?”

“Hell no! Criminy--those wastes of air took out a few of our crew.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Imani shook her head. “Ah, sorry. I’m gettin’ all serious again.”

“Shouldn’t have said anything. But--just never met a Black nomad before. Heard about y’all, on and off, just--not in person.”

“There were a few of us in the Bakkers. More out where I’m from, less so out here.”

“Country folk never change, do they? Got horses, too?”

“Ah--yeah, actually.”

Denny laughed, taking a sip of her drink. Imani took a drink as well, if only to not gawk at her again.

“Think we’re all generally mixed up in city life, it seems.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if that was the case. My folks left the city and fled out with the Bakkers. They knew it wasn’t all that safe and secure--but neither was stayin’ in city walls.”

“When’d they have you?”

“Second year out there in the wastes. Fifth kid born in the Bakkers--that’s why they called me Five. So I just--shortened it to V. Duke delivered me, luckily I was an easy birth. Brandi was three or four when I was born.”

“Brandi--Your sister?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I have an older sister.”

“What happened to them? You keep talkin’ about em like--they aren’t around.”

“Parents have been dead for a while, since I was 14. Brandi--Lord knows. I haven’t seen hair or hide of her in five years now.”

“Sorry to hear that. Whatever happened between you two--couldn’t have been that bad?”

Imani shook her head. “We had a big argument. Can’t remember about what even, now. But she packed up her things and left. But I’ve been in NC for a while. She must have gone further north. Not sure where, or even where to start lookin’ for her.”

Imani sighed heavily, taking another sip out of her glass. She was already almost done with it, feeling a little embarrassed.

“You could try a private investigator. You got enough eddies for that, right?”

“Hm. Guess so. But--I’m not sure she’d even wanna speak to me. I’m not the same woman she left behind.”

“But she’s your sister. Unless she killed someone close to you or beat ya--it can be smoothed over.”

Imani sighed. “You’ve got a good point. I guess--just needed someone to say it out loud.”

Denny leaned against the couch. “What’s keepin’ you here? Besides Kerry.”

“I ended up making a new family. Blame my friendly ass savior for that. Got me connected to so many people, and he probably didn’t even realize it. His mom, his ex, his trainer--.”

“The past tense thing again, chickie. He a goner too?”

“Yeah--mmh, starting to think you think I’m a serial killer.”

“Nah, just a merc with bad luck. Am I right?”

“Am I that obviously a solo?”

“You’re a tall sista wearing combat boots and _two_ guns, and I can tell you’ve got some armor under your skin.” Denny smiled, laughing softly. “Definitely not just a run of the mill NC girl. And most couldn’t afford all that hardware.”

Imani raised her eyebrows. “Damn. I am that obvious.”

Denny laughed again. “Not a bad thing. Shut Henry up real quick. Ker ever see you like that before?”

“No, I’m usually the one calmin’ him down.”

Denny raised her eyebrows. “That so?”

“He’s a destructive lil’ thing.”

“He’s high strung, sometimes. That’s what makes him interesting. Kept him for this long.”

“That’s true,” Imani said with a smile. She finished her glass, now holding the likely expensive crystalware in her hands awkwardly. “Uh, thank you. For agreeing to the show.”

“You must be a really good player if Kerry chose you to replace Johnny.”

“I’m alright. He said I had the right spirit,” Imani shrugged.

Johnny groaned at her joke.

 _Oh I was_ **_not_ ** _goin’ to pass that up!_ Imani shouted in her head.

“It’s gettin’ late,” Denny said in mild concern. “An old lady like me needs her rest. And to get back to practicin’.”

“You’ll be amazing, as always, Denny.”

“Shouldn’t you be doin’ the same? Not out here killin’ braincells with more booze.”

“Hey, you offered,” Imani said with a laugh.

“I meant where you’ll likely scurry off to next.”

“Readin’ me like a book. Guess I should cut back, work on my callouses.”

“That’s the spirit. Everyone will be countin’ on you. Silverhand’s got big shoes to fill. Kinda miss that gonk, sometimes.”

Johnny appeared just to gloat on the other end of the couch, behind Denny. “Nice that someone remembers me fondly.”

_Surprised?_

“Never was that close with anyone. Glad I’m not an entirely bad memory for some folks.”

_People remember you from before the bombing. That wouldn't change those memories._

“I know you’re a merc and all, but you seem distracted,” Denny questioned, tilting her head.

Imani brought her eyes back to the older woman. “Ah, just thinkin’ over what you said. You’re right.” She stood up, gently setting the glass on the table before her. “Thanks for holin’ me up for a while.”

“You sober enough to get on that bike?”

“I’m fine. I’m a glass-a-day kinda gal.”

“Gonna kill yourself with that habit.”

“I’ll work on it, Miss Denny,” and Imani smiled as if she hiding a laugh. "Promise."

“It’s nice to meet you, by the way. Don’t get many chances to meet new people. Young people, especially.”

“Well, I can come back whenever. I’m not doin’ much these days.”

Denny smirked at her. “Now I know that’s a lie.”

“...fine. I’ll drop anything if you need me, how about that?”

“There we go,” she laughed. “Send me your number and I’ll hold ya to it.”

\--

_Too bad Jack isn’t here. He’d probably shake me silly. “Samurai, mami! Look at you!”_

Riding through Night City on his bike only made Imani miss him more. He never wore a helmet, but she always did. Even with the armor, taking a chance on it protecting her best was a gonk move. Anyway, she resolved, the shiny black helmet made her look cooler.

“He’d be proud of you, if I can parse out the memories right.”

_He was always tellin’ me I was destined for better, encouraging me every time he could. What's good bein' great when I don't have him to celebrate with?  
_

“I know, Mani. I know. And I know you miss him.”

Imani tensed up slightly at the red light, taking a deep breath. It had only been a short while since Jackie’s funeral, and it was still painful to think about everything that happened.

_Can’t cry on the bike, Johnny. Let’s talk somethin’ else. Your feelings on Denny?_

“She’s a great girl, great drummer too. She seems soft on you, too, so that’ll help.”

The light changed, and Imani kicked up her feet, zooming off again down the street. She took it easy on the turns, last thing she wanted was to wreck one of the few things she had of Jackie’s.

 _Old Black ladies love me,_ she thought dismissively.

“I’m very aware of that. One of your earliest memories is going to a nomad party and being given extra just ‘cause the lady serving said you were a ‘skinny lil’ thing’.”

“If only Miss Sandy could see me now,” Imani said out loud.

Johnny laughed. “Y’know, I’m glad I’m stuck with you. All the gonks in this city, you make it a little less miserable.”

_Big compliment from you._

“I mean that. You’ve got a good heart...it's in a full whiskey bottle, but hey, it’s there.”

Imani laughed, revving the bike a little louder as she went speeding down the straightaway.


End file.
